Those who love life do not read. Nor do they go to the movies, actually. No matter what might be said, access to the artistic universe is more or less entirely the preserve of those who are a little fed… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share Image
I think that if writers don't speak about real life, it's because they don't know it. — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
“In my life, I had known suffering, oppression, anxiety; I had never known boredom. I could see no objection to the endless, imbecile repetition… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
I admit that invective is one of my pleasures. This only brings me problems in life, but that's it. I attack, I insult. I… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
“... I spent whole afternoons at Bon Marché looking at pullovers, there was no sense in going on like that.” — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
I've lived so little that I tend to imagine I'm not going to die; it seems improbable that human existence can be reduced to… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
Rumor had it that he was homosexual; in reality, in recent years, he was simply a garden-variety alcoholic. — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
“Olga was nice, Olga was nice and loving, Olga loved him, he repeated to himself with a growing sadness as he also realised that… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
“The problem is, it's just not enough to live according to the rules. Sure, you manage to live according to the rules. Sometimes it's… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
“Life sometimes offers you a chance, he thought, but when you are too cowardly or too indecisive to seize it life takes the cards… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
“An entire life spent reading would have fulfilled my every desire; I already knew that at the age of seven. The texture of the… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
Of course, we can distinguish between males and females; we can also, if we choose, distinguish between different age categories; but any more advanced… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
A source of permanent, accessible pleasure, our genitals exist. The god who created our misfortune, who made us short-lived, vain and cruel, has also… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
